She was almost ready to put down her sword for good. Perhaps the time had come to do as Melio had so long wished. Maybe she was finally ready to be a mother, to raise a child to know peaceful things. Yes, she had not felt this good in a long time.
C HAPTER
Delivegu did not much like the tedious work of espionage. It could be quite beneficial, a real boon at times. Certainly, that was all true. But if he were caught during any of its less dignified moments, it would tarnish his image. He went to great pains to ensure that he was always seen at ease, in control, with a drink or cards or a woman at hand: Delivegu, a man with few cares, a man above the petty concerns of others, one who benefited from human folly but never became the butt of it. That was the image of himself he most fancied. He wore a cloak of vice around him as normally as others wore clothing, and he felt just as naked without it.
So the fact that he stood pressed to an alley wall for long, boring stretches of time was not the sort of thing he wanted anybody to know about. It was just the type of action he sometimes needed to take in order to gain useful information. That was why he was doing so one night a fortnight after the Blood Moon banquet. He stood alert as the evening progressed. He kept to the shadows, listening to the footfalls of pedestrians and to the occasional passing carriage and more than once spying passing revelers intoxicated with drink, singing as they went. Ah, the type of activity he should be up to!
Once a dog trailing behind a small group of Talayan dignitaries sniffed him out and stood at the mouth of the alley growling, the ridge of fur along its backbone bristling. Fortunately, the Talayans were too caught up in their conversation to pay the hound much attention. Delivegu stared the dog down, cursing under his breath and illustrating the full extent of his annoyance through the vicious way he jerked his head to the side, an oft-repeated instruction that the creature should move on if it wanted to stay breathing. Eventually, the dog lifted its leg and peed out its opinion of Delivegu on the spot. Only then did it prance away.
If Delivegu managed to become the queen's confidant in the manner he wished, he would make sure to delegate duties like this to others. Not yet, though. Not just yet. First he had to get things right, and he could trust only himself to see that accomplished. This little venture, for instance, might be a dead end. If it was, he would not want anybody else thinking that he cared about it personally, that he spent an entire night standing in an alley.
"Clear your head, man!" Delivegu ran his fingers roughly over his face. "She's just a woman. Nothing to get twisted about."
Yet he was twisted. Things had become personal. That annoyed him. The source, and prime target, of his annoyance? King Grae of Aushenia. That strutting gamecock. He had not liked Grae from the moment he set eyes on him at the Blood Moon banquet, when he watched a servant leave the queen's side, wind through the crowd, and then lead Grae to the queen's dais. A mere courtesy of royalty, he had hoped at first, but then he had another suspicion.
Delivegu knew women, nobles just as readily as tavern girls. He could tell that the queen had been quite taken with the Aushenian. He knew when indifference was feigned, how to read body gestures for the meanings they highlighted or attempted to hide. He did not even need to hear their conversation to know that the queen had toyed with Grae, coy and coquettish. And the lout sat there, tall and self-satisfied, showing his sparkling teeth in a smile and pointing about the room with his square-jawed chin, tossing his auburn hair while the queen ate it all up. Delivegu had wanted to throttle him. It only got worse from there.
The queen continued to entertain the monarch throughout the week that followed, but Delivegu could gain no access to her. Corinn did not call for him. She sent him only one letter stating simply: Do nothing in regard to the woman and child. She is not your concern anymore. Not so much as a thank-you, for bringing her the news of Wren's pregnancy in the first place! Nor had his letters-meant to entice her with the suggestion of new intelligence-merited any answer whatsoever. He could not even get a response from Rhrenna. He tried to call on her directly but got no farther than the surly Numrek guards who protected the queen's offices. What strange protectors they made: brutes who looked as if they would just as soon kill a friend as a foe.
Even worse, all the information he could gather from his sources made the palace sound like a marvel of joy and optimism. Princess Mena's spectacular arrival on that creature had set everyone's spirits on high, it seemed. The island flooded with curious nobles wishing to see the beast. Which meant more entertainments, more dances, more banquets: none of which Delivegu was invited to. A barge of entertainers broke off from the floating merchants and docked in Acacia's harbor. They swarmed through the streets, taking impromptu advantage of the festive atmosphere, making it more so. Under normal circumstances, Delivegu would have had a time of it himself, but instead he found himself grinding his teeth in worry that Grae had used all of this cheer to bed the queen. His queen. Maddening.
He knew instinctively that the Aushenian would not like him. Of course he wouldn't. Though the queen probably could not see it beneath his surface charms, Grae was just as much a cock as Delivegu. If the Aushenian strutted his way into Corinn's bed and onto the throne, Delivegu's aspirations-for the chancellorship and more-would be thwarted. That decided things for him.
With nobody else to focus on, he aimed his sights-and a good deal of jealous animus-at King Grae. That was what he had been doing for several days now. He whispered into a few ears, posed questions, offered silver. He spread word among those who had connections with the servants and other staff in the palace or in the foreign district. He was looking for intelligence about the Aushenian king. Anything; romantic liaisons in his past; proclivities that might upset the queen; evidence of cowardice on the battlefield, perhaps. Delivegu had even bribed a clerk with access to the historical library to search the speeches and proclamations issued in the king's name. There had to be something. Grae could not be the faithful admirer that he wanted Corinn to think him.
What did he discover for all his searching? Not much. The king had bedded his share of noblewomen, but that was hardly a secret. Such wasn't even out of keeping with his nation's traditions. He had been known to bathe nude with male companions in the hot springs of the Gradthic mountains, but that wasn't anything he'd be ashamed of either. Northerners did that sort of thing.
His military record was unblemished. Indeed, if his valor in securing his national borders after Hanish's downfall was to be believed, it was amazing he had lived through it. His official proclamations were often critical of the Acacian Empire, of Akaran leaders of the past, and even of the reigning queen, certainly of the quota trade and the League of Vessels' grip on commerce.
But so what? None of these things was enough. Delivegu wrote them out in several draft letters, but in reading each through he saw how petty it all sounded, how insubstantial. Aliver Akaran himself had sought to abolish the quota trade. Dariel Akaran had blown the league platforms to smithereens. Corinn, he feared, would see it for what it was and adjust her opinion of him downward. He needed something more.
This search was what had brought him to the district below the palace, the area reserved for foreign dignitaries. He had been standing in the shadows near King Grae's accommodations long enough that his legs were numb and his head aching from the repetitive tedium of his thoughts. He was so near to slumber that he started when a figure opened the door and slipped into the street. The light was faint, but Delivegu's eyes were accustomed enough to the starlight to make out the young man. He wore a hooded cloak of Aushenian cut. Delivegu had seen such garments before and found them lacking in terms of fashion. Aushenians still fancied themselves hunters of the woods and marshes. Why did cultures always mythologize the past? Silly, really, when what was of more import to them was the ever-oncoming future.